I Like You
by lucyrinner
Summary: Don't be afraid to tell someone you like them. (Fitzsimmons AU in which the awkward office relationship has to come to a head eventually, right?)


She takes the same path to work every day.

Every day, Jemma Simmons takes the same coffee, sits down at her her desk, maybe says hello to Daisy or Mack on the way, then gets to work.

But on her way to her desk from the coffee machine that morning, she spots Hunter walking past her computer, talking with a guy. Jemma's never seen him before, so she assumes he must be new, and feels a little bad that Hunter's taken it upon himself to give him the grand tour of the office- she loves Hunter, really, but she doubts he knows where the meeting room judging by all the times he's been late there.

She walks casually back to her desk and sits down in her chair, trying to nonchalantly look past her large monitor at the guys. He's attractive, actually- brown and sandy curls, preppy tie, and Jemma thinks she can hear a Scottish accent from all the way over there.

But of course, the creepy staring comes to a close when Hunter notices her and drags the new guy to meet her, a huge smile on his face.

* * *

"Simmons! I'm glad you're here- this is Fitz, he's new."

Simmons smiles at him, noticing his dark blue eyes and the slight blush on his face. "Hi," she says, holding out her hand. "I'm Simmons."

"Fitz."

Hunter looks at them knowingly, big smile on his face. "Fitz here just joined the research and development team, which, if I'm not mistaken, is your department too, right?" It's like he's not even trying to hide it.

Simmons puts on a brave face. "Yes, Hunter, it is. Looking forward to working with you, Fitz," she says with a smile, proud of herself for not stuttering or fumbling like a twelve year old.

He's just a guy, Simmons. A new guy, even. Shouldn't even put the smallest damper on the routine.

Fitz smiles back at her and Hunter leads him away to the empty desk across the row from Simmons, leaving him to set up his monitor and keyboard.

Simmons peeks behind her monitor at him again, interested. She grabs the notebook out of her desk drawer and tears out a page, and, in her neatest handwriting, simply prints _Welcome_ across it.

"Is that for new guy?" She hears behind her, and she doesn't even have to turn around to know who it is.

"Daisy!" She whisper-shouts, looking around to see if Fitz heard her.

"Oh, relax, I think your little nerd crush is cute."

Simmons rolls her eyes. "I'm simply welcoming a new team member into research and development!" She insists. "I guess it's a little different over in IT, but I'm a friendly coworker!"

Daisy laughs. "I'm sure you are. Let's get lunch later? I promise I'll only tease you about this a few times."

Jemma nods as Daisy leaves, and only then does she let herself look at Fitz again. He's getting out of his chair and following the boss, Coulson, up the stairs, probably into his office for more first day stuff. Perfect.

She looks around a few times, just to see if anyone's watching, then gets up out of her chair, and unassumingly walks the few steps across the aisle to Fitz's desk, placing the folded up note on top of his keyboard, and scampers back before anyone like Daisy can lovingly call her out on it.

She's just being friendly.

It isn't until later when Fitz returns to his desk, trying to juggle files of papers, when he spots the note. He reads it, then glances around a few times in confusion at different coworkers still in the office, catching Jemma's watching eye from across the walkway.

She waves at him, unsure, but he smiles and waves back, already writing on a new sheet.

 _Happy to be here, thanks._

He gets up and, under the pretense of getting more coffee, places the note on her desk and keeps walking towards the kitchen.

She spins around her chair and watches him walk away, a smile on her face.

* * *

Fitz likes to think he settled in quite nicely at the office. It's bright and lively, with lots of smart and interesting people to talk to. He's made a few friends in Hunter, Daisy, and Mack, and even warmed up to May, the branch VP. He learns the people around him make a job more interesting.

That's why he plants himself in the copy room only minutes after six o'clock, right before employees are allowed to leave to the day. He's noticed it's the place where a few people like to copy things without an annoying line to wait in, and the janitor's just put in fresh toner.

And by a few people, a means one, specific, incredibly hardworking and dedicated one.

Like clockwork, Jemma rounds the corner into the small room, shuffling a few papers in her hands without even looking up.

Which is why, of course, she runs straight into Fitz.

"Oh, I'm sorry-" she says, already picking up papers off the brown, musty carpet. She looks up to see Fitz, already bending down with most the stack in his hands, bumbling for the rest. "My fault," he says, small smile on his face.

They stand up and he hands her the papers, and they nod at each other, her meaning to go for the copier behind him, and him meaning to exit around the corner behind her as quickly as possible, because that sure hadn't gone the way he'd intended it to.

He also didn't intend to walk into her again.

This time, it's the awkward 'we're-both-going-the-same-way' thing, and the both say sorry every time they sidestep in front of each other, until he finally just stops and motions for her to pass him.

"Thanks," she laughs, blushing.

"We'd be here all bloody day if I didn't."

He leaves the room with a small grin and goes back to his desk. Well, that went great.

* * *

"You going to the party tonight, man?"

Fitz sighs, hearing that phrase for the third time today, this time from Mack. "No, I don't think so. Parties aren't really my thing, I guess."

"You should go, this time, though," Mack says, carefully. "Some, uh, people might be there."

Fitz rolls his eyes, understanding what he's trying to say. "Subtle, Mack. Thanks alot."

Mack laughs and pats him on the shoulder. "It'll be fun. Last year, May actually smiled at one of these."

Fitz supposes he could at least stop by, if not for the possibility of a May smile, then to actually get to spend time with his other, less friendly coworkers outside of asking them where the new coffee filters are kept.

And, the newest note from Simmons this morning may or may not have asked if he was going. And he may or may not have already made up his mind just from that single piece of paper.

Ten minutes before they're all supposed to leave, but a good hour before Simmons gets out of the office, Fitz sits himself down at his desk, takes a breath, and pulls out his notebook, tearing out yet another sheet of paper.

He scribbles _Yes, save me a dance_ on it in his best chicken scratch, and, right as he sees Simmons get up, most likely to use to bathroom or get something from the kitchen, he runs over and drops it before he can talk himself out of it.

He waits for her to come back and see it, until he's there for twenty minutes, still staring at the empty chair, and finally realizes it doesn't have a coat hung over it, nor a handbag next to it.

He takes the note back as he's the last one to leave, heading to his apartment to get ready for the night.

* * *

Simmons, having spent more time one her outfit than she'd like to admit, walks into the party slightly late, and it just so happens that the first thing she sees is Fitz casually standing with Bobbi, both laughing and talking.

So, despite Daisy's requests to come start the cha-cha slide with her, she does something she promised herself she'd never do.

Jemma Simmons wallows by the open bar, beer in hand.

She's like that for a while, staring out into nowhere, anywhere but the one spot she knows he is, and just when she starts to feel a little stupid for letting this get to her so bad, she feels a tap on her shoulder.

"Nice choice," Fitz smiles, gesturing to the beer in her hand. "Not a lot of people know about that one."

"Yeah, well, English beers are usually just a better bet than whatever else they're serving here."

They both look at each other for a second, smiles that can't be wiped off their faces, and despite the loud music and the fact that they're literally surrounded by coworkers, they have fun.

They laugh about Daisy's attempt at bringing Coulson on the dance floor, the intern lab techs that somehow made their way to the party as well, even swapping stories from university.

"It was the first time they had to use the decontamination shower in about ten years," he laughs.

She punches him in the arm, feeling bolder than usual. "I don't believe you," she says, gasping for breath, laughing so hard.

It's quiet for some time, as they both stare out at the crowd, until he offers his hand. "Jemma?" He looks at her.

It's just like that first day they met, but instead of a handshake, she grabs it and lets it lead her over to the dance floor, giggling all the way there. It's mostly goofy, him trying to spin her around until she takes control, because she's obviously better at leading than he is, she thinks he's just pulled her in for a dip or something ridiculous when they pause so close-

Music drowned out, breath held, and she barely touches her lips to his when she peeks out of the corner of her eye and sees the faces already staring at them. Different coworkers, so many people, lots of eyes at once.

She can tell he's seen them too when they jump apart slightly, and he runs his hand through his curls. He probably thinks it got out of hand, probably regrets it- or, at least, that's where Jemma's mind immediately jumps to, racing towards all of the negative possibilities without a second to spare.

She breathes heavily for a few seconds, looks at him, and mutters something along the lines of a very British "Sorry" under her breath, and quickly walks out of the room, down the stairs and outside to the entrance of the bar, only muttering a quick "See you!" to Daisy on her way out.

The fresh air calms her and she waits at the doorstep, watching cars drive by for a few minutes in the bright city lights until she feels calm enough to walk down the block to her own car.

Clutching her bag in defeat, she spots a piece of paper stuck behind her windshield wiper, and, for just a second, allows herself to hope.

It's the right choice, and she smiles widely at the words scrawled on the paper in his handwriting.

 _Next time I'll kiss you, no matter who's watching._


End file.
